


Motives in Dreams

by langsdelijn



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Community: 31_days, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4912579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/langsdelijn/pseuds/langsdelijn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Jenson minds. He'd just like to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motives in Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [31_days](http://31-days.livejournal.com) challenge for October 1, _Relevant to my interests_.

If he had to be honest, Jenson was still not sure how exactly things had come to this. Not that he had any complaints, mind. But on reflection he felt he had missed some key details about some of the moments between when Lewis had let himself in and the current… situation. 

Yes, that seemed a neutral enough description to use while he worked out the motives behind it, since he somehow doubted all his fantasies were spontaneously coming true (however nice it would be to get that few hundred more HP he wished for in the back of the car). Jenson tried to collect the facts, such as they were: a short time ago, less than five minutes ago in all likelihood though it felt significantly longer, Lewis had come into his room—how, he had not been able to find out, because he had one key card and it had been in its slot—had accepted a drink he’d not touched and sat and watched Jenson finish his pint, and had then, offhandedly and out of nowhere, asked him if he still wanted to fuck him but had not waited for an answer (and, truth be told, there would not have been one for quite some time as the question had struck him a bit speechless but it would have been fervently in the affirmative) to settle in between his legs and leisurely work at his fly and here they were, in the situation.

Jenson did not feel any the wiser.

‘Um,’ he tried, caught tongue-tied between not daring to interrupt the moment lest it shatter on second thought and not wanting to commit to this without some explanation or assurance that Lewis was actually fully in his right mind and not high on sex pollen or whatever.

‘Hmm?’ Lewis echoed, unconcerned, as he delicately traced the outline of Jenson’s dick through his boxers.

Jenson gently took him by the wrist and stopped him while enough blood remained upstairs to want to have this conversation. ‘Lewis,’ Jenson began in his best concerned this-is-for-your-own-good voice, because it was guaranteed to annoy him into a reaction, ‘why are you doing this?’

Lewis tipped his head back and glanced up at him. Jenson had to resist the temptation to put his free hand under Lewis’ chin and tilt his head back further to expose the line of his throat. Jenson swallowed, and Lewis smiled. ‘I know you want me,’ he said.

(And that was another thing, Jenson thought. Lewis knew, but Jenson had kept his desire in the safe privacy of his own head—and once or twice in the bedroom, which as far as Lewis was concerned amounted to the same thing—so the question was how he knew.)

Lewis raised himself up on his knees so that his face was level with Jenson’s. ‘You do, don’t you?’ he breathed.

‘I do,’ Jenson admitted. He tried not to feel so acutely how warm and wet and inviting Lewis’ breath felt across his cheek. ‘But,’ he continued, ‘I have to have something more than that to go on.’ His words were stretched in a struggle to smooth out what would have otherwise been slurred by lust so they came out slowly and methodically but also seemingly more breathlessly than he intended, even to his own ears.

‘Does it matter?’ Lewis asked. He sounded, as far as Jenson was concerned, unreasonably aggravated, as if Jenson were ungrateful in questioning this. Jenson wondered if he was. But no, surely he was at least free to want to know why someone who had shown no previous interest in him had, uncomfortably literally, thrown themselves at his feet suddenly.

‘Yes,’ Jenson said confidently.

Lewis sat back and watched him. Jenson found himself unable to guess at what he was thinking. ‘I have my reasons,’ he explained a moment later, ‘will that do?’

God, yes, if you get on with it, Jenson thought. It was a losing battle he fought against both his own arousal and Lewis’ clear if unknown intent. And, honestly, for what? A misplaced attempt to look out for Lewis’—what, his honour? A desire to be assured of his own desirability? He wanted this, Lewis was offering it. 

Jenson let go of Lewis’ wrist, reached out with his other hand and tangled it in his hair, pulled him closer. He hesitated for another moment, licked his own lips in anticipation, and kissed him. Lewis sighed against him and opened his mouth, met him halfway. 

Lewis’ hands came up to his chest and he used them to gently pushed him backwards, until they had to separate. ‘I do want to,’ he whispered. ‘I promise.’

‘But you won’t say why,’ Jenson concluded.

Lewis smiled. ‘It’s much more exciting as a mystery,’ he said, joining him on the sofa, and once his hand had found its way back into Jenson’s trousers, Jenson finally gave in and let himself explore Lewis’ body in turn, ‘don’t you think?’


End file.
